Spores
by el tigre nina
Summary: 2 years ago, Mr. Spock left the USS Enterprise with no explanation. Long story short: Jim's behavior spirals out of control. No longer able to deny missing the cool, (usually) composed Vulcan, he accepts Spock's request to return. But can he piece himself back together without revealing how he really feels? Loosely based on "Spores" by Say Anything. Very loosely.
1. Chapter One: Hangover

_**Chapter One:**__ Hangover_

It had been two years. Two years since Spock had pulled Jim Kirk aside and told him he was leaving the USS Enterprise. His reasoning had been vague. So vague, that Jim could barely remember why he was being abandoned by his First Officer in Command. He _did _remember shouting and cursing. Demanding for and explanation. He might of begged, not that he would admit it. But it made no difference. That damn Vulcan only shook his head and lowered his gaze. _"I'm sorry, Captain." _ He had desperately wanted to say, '_But I need you.'_ Yet his throat choked up and he hit the wall with his fist. Face flushed.

_"Then get off my ship."_

He had regretted for being so dramatic. Jim had acted like a child about the whole situation. He didn't even see Spock off. Just hid in his room, his jaw clenched tight. That night, he drank until his vision went black. If McCoy had not found him sprawled out half way in his room, half out, it might of ended worse than a stiff hangover.

"_You're lucky nobody else found you, Jim. All kinds of weird rumors would start up about you and that green-blooded hobgoblin! What were you thinking?!" _Bones had scolded as he pressed a hypo into the Captains neck. He cringed and glowered at the floor. _Maybe that I-_

He should have learned then. But every chance he got, he tilted back the bottle, washing the liquid over his tongue. It may have started cold in his mouth, but it turned to fire on its way down to his stomach. It was burn that eased the twisting of his stomach. A sloppy grin would plaster itself on his face. Everything would feel better. Numb.

Numb enough to go home with any girl that would take him. Which, with his stunning good looks, wasn't hard. He couldn't remember if any of them were particularly attractive. It didn't really matter to him. At three am, he was out the door. Never looking back.

He propositioned Uhura a year after Spock's departure. The influence of the alcohol had made his vision blurry and his legs a little wobbly. She slapped him hard, sent him stumbling to the ground. A red hand print swelled up on his face instantly. No dignity left, he just laughed. Laughed so hard until tears spilled down his cheeks.

It had been and embarrassing scene.

Again, McCoy came to his rescue. Another hypo to the neck. Another lecture. _"Honestly, Jim. Pull yourself together. This reckless behavior is getting old. What exactly is your deal anyways? What happens when I'm not there to save your country boy ass?"_ The next day, he made a formal apologize to Uhura, who accepted it, but never forgot. And the spiral only went farther down until he woke up that day, two years later after Spock, in a bed he didn't recognize.

It started with a sinking. And emptiness inside of him. He was nothing. Every bit of his being was worthless. And there was nothing he could do about it. They always left him. Every time. Alone at sea in a raging storm. Alone to sink in the bitter cold.

And then the smell of bacon came to him.

His eyes fluttered open. Jim looked to his left. He could see the back of some woman in just an oversized t-shirt. The smell was accompanied by a loud sizzling. He tried to remember where he was or what had even happened the previous night, but it was all a blank. He sat up and his head began to spin. Jim groaned and leaned forward, resting his hands against his head.

The girl must of heard him because suddenly her hand was on his shoulder. An overwhelming smell of spiced pork filled his nose. "Tommy? Are you okay?" Jim was going to be sick. "B-bathroom?" He asked weakly, desperately holding back the vomit in the back of his throat. "Uh, just down the hall..." He stood and stumbled down the hall.

Fortunately, the door was open. Unfortunately, he missed most of his target.

Jim felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow as he hit his head against the wall lightly. He had screwed up big time. He had no clue where he was and had trashed some poor girls bathroom with his stomach contents. Which consisted mostly of liquid and... nachos? He wasn't exactly sure. After moment of self pity, he got up and viciously rinsed his mouth. He then cleaned up the mess he made with a rag he found in one of the drawers.

He had just tossed the rag in the trash when she appeared behind. He peeked at her reflection. A cute brunette with a beauty mark under her left eye. Slowly, he turned to face her. She had his clothes in one hand, shoes in the other. A soft smile formed on her face. "Been there before!" She tried to joke. He forced a smile and grabbed his things from her hands. "Sorry, you didn't happen to-" She grimaced and looked away, embarrassed. He would of respond, but she took that moment to leave.

Closing the door, he quickly dressed himself. His head was still spinning slightly, but the nausea was almost gone. He grabbed her trash and tied it off. When he slipped out of the bathroom, he could hear her talking from the bathroom. He took that moment to quietly slip out of her apartment.

After a long search for a dumpster, he finally found one to toss the trash into. Yet once he heard the bag come into contact with the metal, he found himself frozen in place. He couldn't believe he had just _vomited_ all over a stranger's floor. And why had she called him Tommy? What kind of name was that? His ears began to burn. He had finally hit the bottom.

. . . .

"Where in god's name have you been!?" Bones snapped, trailing after Jim. He had managed to find his way back to the ship (how, he didn't know). They were docked to replenish their supplies for a few more days before heading off to their next mission. "Around. Did I miss something?" he asked, stopping to sign a PADD that a young officer held out to him. "No, but I was worried sick when you missed your physical this morning AND didn't answer your communicator." Jim paused, remembering the girl with the beauty mark. "I was just out. I forgot my communicator in my room."

Bones rolled his eyes. "_Out_ my ass. You were chasin' tail like a hound on a hunt!" Jim glanced at his Chief Medical Doctor. "This destructive behavior has got to stop. I'm done lecturing you!" Kirk walked away, knowing the doctor would follow. He saw a flash of McCoy's medical tricorder out of the corner of his eye. "That's what you said last time," he replied. Another cadet stopped him. Bones threw his hands up in the air. "I'm done, Jim. Don't push me!"

Suddenly, the Captain felt a sharp sting in his neck. He cursed and turned to Bones. "Would you leave me alone!" Bones made some notes on his PADD. "Not until you come in for a physical. I won't ask you again. If you don't show up at 900 hours tomorrow, I will hunt you down, sedate you, and drag you to the sick bay myself!" With that, he walked away in a huff.

It was the usual routine. He filled out paper work and wander around the ship, making sure everything was going well and signing off on whatever work needed conformation. He was on the bridge when Uhura rushed up to him. "Captain," she huffed. "Lieutenant?" He asked. A smile threaten to take over her lips. "Did you get my message?" He shook his head and pulled up his messages.

It took everything to not drop is PADD.

"When the position opened up, he requested to join us again." There was a flutter in her voice. An excitement in her brown eyes. "When the position opened...?" Uhura stared at him, her eyebrows dropping into sharp slopes. "Commander Hudson asked to transfer due to a death in his family. Two weeks ago." Jim made an "Ah!" face. He then glanced out at his PADD again. That all too familiar face peered back up at him. How could he forget those pointy ears and black bowl cut?

"Spock wants to return to the USS Enterprise."

* * *

**Author's Note**

_**Disclamier: **__I do not own Star Trek. This chapter is roughly based off the song "Hangover Song" by Say Anything, which I also don't own. You should give it a listen. It will change your life._

_Sooo... I have no clue if that totally flies or not, but it's a fan fiction so I'm going to pretend like it can. Sorry if I'm way off base. __Hate me if you want, but it's not going to do you any good. Also, correct me if I'm wrong on anything. Please. I'm doing my research, but I could have missed something/anything/everything._

_I don't know when this happening. Sometime after Khan? -shrugs- I'll let you know by the next chapter. Maybe._

_Also, how the fuck do you write McCoy?_


	2. Chapter Two: An Unexpected Hello

_**Chapter Two:**__ And Unexpected Hello_

After the news, he excused himself to Medical Bay. Which was a lie. He went straight to his quarters and threw himself down on his bed. Burying his face into his pillow, he laid absolutely still until he felt his lungs screamed for oxygen. He rolled his head and caught sight of the PADD. The device seemed to glint and taunt him.

Spock wanted to come back.

He felt a rush of emotions all at once. It made his head spin worse than the alcohol from this morning. He growled in exasperation. McCoy was right. He needed to stop behaving this way. He was captain of the USS Enterprise. It was time to man up and behave like an adult. No more of this school boy bullshit. He then flushed, realizing what he had just admitted to himself.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Between his temples began to ache something furious. Every since he had met Mr. Spock, his life had become far more complicated. When they had first met, he had accused Kirk of cheating on the Kobayashi Maru examination (which, unfairly, had been impossible to beat). _"You of all people-" _How dare he bring up his father? Then, he had even gone as far as to abandon him on a Delta Vega after refusing to listen to him. Jim had almost gotten _eaten _a giant monster. Oh, and how could he forget about the time Spock had filed the report on Nibiru?

He wanted to be mad at Spock. He wanted to hate him. But no matter what went wrong between them, Spock had always pulled through for him at the end. They took down Nero as a team. He had asked to stand at his side after he had become Captain of Enterprise. Even at death, the Vulcan had found his way at his side.

God he had been so scared.

Although Spock couldn't give him any reassuring words, Kirk felt a sort of security starring into those dark brown eyes. He barely remembered pressing his hand on the glass, desperate for some sort of touch. His fingers parted into a Vulcan salute before everything was consumed by that cold, black void. When awoke, he was surprised to find Spock had chased Khan down in revenge. And from what everyone else said, it sounded like the other guy looked worse. Not that Spock could ever look bad. A few bruises on that pristine mug might actually be kind of-

Jim's thoughts were interrupted by his communicator whining loudly on his hip. He grabbed it quickly, and answered, "Kirk here."

"It's Lieutenant Uhura. We need to finish discussing about-" Kirk cut her off. "Ugh, not now. I'm not feeling well." The line was quiet for several seconds. "Captain, I'm very aware that you aren't at Sick Bay. And don't think you can hide from me. We leave in only a few days. This needs to be discussed immediately." Kirk rolled his eyes and made a face. "Then remind me in a few days about it." He could hear her huff over the line. He imagined her lips going thin from a tight grin. "Captain, I won't give in until you hear me out..." Jim sighed, completely exasperated. He really didn't want his Communications Officer any more upset that necessary.

"Fine. Come to my quarters and we'll-" He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Kirk begrudgingly got out of bed. When the door opened, he was surprised to find Uhura standing in front of him, a smirk on her face. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he turned and went to sit back on his bed. She followed him in, the door to shut behind her.

"Look, I know things didn't end well between you and Spock. But I think you should give it some serious thought about bringing him back on board. He was a vital part-" Kirk put a hand up to stop her. "Wait, wait. How would you know how things ended?" She cock her hip and raised both eyebrows. "It was kind of obvious. Besides," She hesitated. "I kept in contact with him." Kirk's mouth dropped slightly. He went to object, but she continued talking. "That's not the point. The point is that Spock was a great asset to Enterprise and we should be lucky to have him back aboard."

Kirk closed his mouth and watched her for a few seconds. Her eyes were usually dark, but seemed to glow with intensity. He finally looked away, defeated. "Contact Mr. Spock and inform him that I wish to speak to him about his... _possible_ return to USS Enterprise." Her face noticeably flushed. Jim could tell she was forcing back a smile. "Right away, sir. When would you like a conference?"

"Well, might as well get it over with. How bout tonight? Maybe around 19.30 hours?" Uhura made a face. "I'll try, but maybe tomorrow might be better." Kirk rolled his eyes and began to usher her out. "Just let me know if you can't get a hold of him by 1900, okay? Computer. Door." She started talking about something being unreasonable, but he had already gently nudged her out into the hall and closed the door.

. . . .

God, he needed a drink.

He walked into the bar, dressed in a leather jacket, black shirt, and jeans he kept for shore leave. It was a pretty empty bar, to which he was grateful. Jim walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. As much as he wanted to get shit-faced about now, he didn't know how smart that would be. Just in case Uhura had been able to contact Spock. He just need something to calm his nerves.

The glass of the bottle was cold on his lips. Jim closed his eyes and took in a long drink. It was a bitter ale that was pleasant against his taste buds. Just the thought of it sliding down his throat and being absorbed into his body made him feel good. He set the bottle on the counter and licked his lips.

It wasn't long before a pretty girl approached him. She was tall with short black hair and warm green eyes. She wore little make up and dressed rather light. A shear top and very short skirt. "Um, Are you Captain Kirk?" She seemed shy and slightly nervous. Kirk gave her one of his best smiles. "You caught me." She blushed and her smile grew. "I thought I recognized you. You're far more handsome up close." Her hand immediately flew up to her mouth. Kirk laughed. "So I've been told. Would you like to join me?" She sat down next to him.

She fawned over him, just like the others had. _"You're so young for a captain! I saw on the news about what you did. You're so brave!"_ She would bat her eyelashes seductively, giggle at all the jokes no matter how lame, play with hair, bite at her lips, and "accidentally" brush up against any chance she got.

If he had been drunk, he would of played along until the time was right. When she was comfortable, he would asked her if she wanted tot take their conversation somewhere a little more quiet. If she agreed, he would take her delicate hands in his strong ones. Once alone, he pull her in with his bright blue eyes before covering her sensitive skin with his full lips. Well aware of his best assets, he would abuse them to take them to bed.

Yet as many times as he had gone through this process, he found himself irritated by the young woman's presence. He kept his eye contact to a minimum and did his best not to flinch every time their knees brushed against each other. There was just something about her that bothered him a little too much.

What could be taking Lieutenant Uhura so long?

The girl didn't even seem to noticed Jim's nervousness. She rolled her hands and made strange expressions with her eyebrows as she explained something. He forced a smile at her when she bumped into his shoulder and laughed. She clearly had made some kind of joke. Suddenly, she looked up and her laughter stopped. She shifted in her seat and her face was incredibly red. Jim, confused by her silence, followed her gaze.

Spock.

Jim's eyes widened and his muscles tensed. The Vulcan stood only a few feet away, back straight, arms behind his back. His expression was blank. He wore a dark gray uniform that was tailored to his body perfectly, complimenting all the right parts. Prim and proper, just like Kirk remembered.

"Mr. Spock. What a surprised," Jim finally mustered. Something flickered in those dark brown eyes. "Captain." His voice. It was deeper than he remembered. Kirk felt blood rushing to his ears. "W-What are you doing here?" His voice faltered a little. Was that a twitch of a smile? Whatever it was, it was gone before Kirk could really see. "Uhura informed me that you had wished to arrange a conference with me. Seeing as I was close by, I decided it would be best to meet you in person." Jim cleared his throat. "How did you find me here?" Spock paused for a moment, as if to add effect. "It isn't hard to find you, Captain."

The smile tugged his lips before he could stop it. He quickly cleared his throat and stood. "Well, it was nice meeting you Miss-" He paused as if to let her answer. But when she opened her mouth to reply, he quickly said, "But I have important business to attend." He left the young girl there, the Vulcan following quickly behind.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Star Trek. I wish I was cool enough to create something like it._

_So, holy wow. I was surprised by the amount of follows/favorites. Thank you everyone who read my story and thought it was worth adding to to their list of reading. I was pretty surprised, but plenty pleased!_

_Basically, the plot of this fan fiction is based on a song. I have a play list that goes along with the story, so some chapters may be based off particular songs (like the first chapter). It's kind of weird, I know. But I've been reading a lot of Star Trek fan fiction as of late and while listening to Say Anything's album __In Defense of the Genre__, a stories began to formulate in my head. Really, a lot of songs have been added to the playlist._

_So, again, I'm sorry if I've got it completely wrong. Forgive me. I hope you can still enjoy the story. Don't forget to correct me if anything is wrong. _

_ALSO: sorry for the cliffhangers. I'm an awful person, I know._


	3. Chapter Three: Return to Your Side

_**Chapter Three: **__Return to Your Side_

They walked in silence for a long time. Jim wasn't sure where they were going. He just let his feet guide him. Finally, Spock spoke up, "Captain-" Kirk stopped and turned to him. "Call me Jim." Spock met his eyes. He couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine. Had his eyes always been so dark with a hint of amber? Jim looked away, completely unnerved. "Jim..." He seemed to test the name in his mouth.

"Where exactly are we going?" Kirk felt a slight rush of blood into his cheeks. "Somewhere quiet. Where we can talk." Spock raised an eyebrow and looked around. "I believe the level of sound in our current location would be considered _'quiet,'_ Jim," He replied. Jim rolled his eyes. Looks like nothing changed.

"So, you want to come back." He couldn't stop the harshness from seeping into his voice. Spock straightened his jacket. "Yes." Jim pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "And what makes you think that I need you back?" The bitterness was definitely there. But, he couldn't take it back now. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to hold his ground. Another fleeting look came from the Vulcan. "Have you filled the position?" He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest. "Maybe I have someone else in mind."

"Do you?"

"Possibly."

"What are their qualifications?"

"That's really none-"

"I believe that I am more than qualified-"

"Really? Because when reviewing your past experience on a ship, you left without giving a proper-"

"I don't understand how that-"

"How can I be sure that you won't abandon us-"

"I had no choice."

Jim blinked, his mouth slightly agape. He was startled to see a tinge of green dusting the Vulcan's face. Yet no emotion marked his face. There was a tightness in Kirk's chest that made it hard to take in air. It had been some time since somebody had riled Kirk up. Of course, nobody could do it better than Mr. Spock.

"Where have you been, Spock?" Wow, could he make himself sound any more desperate? Spock's eyes flickered, his posture stiffened. He waited for a reply, but none came. Jim shook his head. He tried to speak, but found the words stuck on the back of his tongue. Finally, he gave up and started walking again.

"Wait-" Suddenly, a firm hand was grasping his arm. Jim froze in place, blue eyes locking into brown. The hand quickly removed itself. "Capt- _Jim_. I will tell you. I just need time." His eyes were so dark, pupils dilated. There was something so... _human_in that expression. Something he had rarely seen in his first Officer. Of course, he had forgotten that Spock was only half Vulcan. There was human blood coursing through those veins.

Suddenly, the young Iowan man felt incredibly hot. He adjusted the collar of his jacket and cleared his throat quietly. "Mr. Spock, report for duty first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get everything worked out then." Kirk was pretty sure a smile broke that straight line of a mouth, if only for a second. "Thank you, Captain."

He felt dizzy. He was sure he was going to faint. "I'll see you tomorrow..." Jim mumbled, turning. "Where will you go now?" He didn't even turn to reply. "To be alone."

. . . .

There had to be something in his room. Jim was sure of it. He quickly slipped out of his jacket and began rummaging through his things. He had been collecting for a while now, hiding them throughout his room. They were security, just in case he needed something a little extra to sleep. Yet, a slight fear of someone rifling through his things made him change the location each time.

Finally, behind a stack of books, he found a pint of vodka, yet to be drank from. It wouldn't be enough. He was sure he had another one, hidden amongst his stuff. He unscrewed the cap and chugged down the clear liquid.

_Anything to forget._

He tossed the bottle aside when it was empty. So dizzy. When had he become so exhausted? Jim stumbled around his room, trying to find his other bottle. Maybe it was in his dresser. He had a habit of burying them underneath his uniforms; the way he buried his secrets within himself. But nothing was there. He wandered, growing desperate.

Spock was back.

Joy. Anger. Hurt. Confusion. His throat burned. His head spun. The alcohol shouldn't have affected him so fast. Where the hell was that bottle? Was this even his room? When had he ended up on the floor? He knew Spock had been First Commander to better Captains. Hadn't he? At least Pike for sure. So, why did he want to come back? Jim didn't need him. At least, that's what he would pretend. Because he couldn't deny that he missed him. He missed him _so much_. Everything ached. He just wanted to forget. _Black and blue. Yellow noose._ Just forget, Jim. Forget.

. . . .

Jim woke with a flash light blinding him and a splitting headache. His hand flew up to his face to cover his eyes. "Rise and shine, princess. You're in the way." He recognized that voice. "Bones?" He croaked. "The one and only. Now get up so these nice people can do their job." Jim blinked a few times and looked around. Bones leaned over him, several young cadets peering over his shoulder. "Where am I?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbows. Bones peered back at the cadets. "He's fine. Get back to work. I'll get his sorry ass out of the way." Bones looked back at Jim and shook his head.

He stood and held out a hand. Jim took it and lifted himself, his legs wobbling beneath him. Instantly, he was hit was a stabbing pain behind his eyes. Bones then roughly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Bones..." Jim's stomach turned. "You woke up in his old room." He screwed up his face, confused. "Who's room?" Bone's grip tightened. "My god, farm boy. You really have lost your damn mind."

They made it to Sick Bay rather quickly. Bones shoved Kirk down onto one of the beds. "Don't move or I'll paralyze you," He threatened. He then walked off, disappearing behind a curtain. Jim leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Every muscle in his body felt like they had been injected with mercury. He breathed slow, trying to ebb the pain in his frontal lobe.

"I'm a doctor, Jim. Not a therapist. But it doesn't take one to see that something is seriously wrong here." He felt the hypo bite into his neck. He flinched. "When you didn't show up for your physical this morning, I was sure you had gone out and gotten yourself too poisoned-"

"Commander Spock has returned to Enterprise. He starts working today."

It slipped out before he even processed what he had said. The air grew stiff and he heard McCoy inhale sharply. When only silence returned to him, he looked up. He couldn't quiet read the look on his Medical Officer's face. "Is that what all this has been about?" Kirk shook his head and averted his eyes to the ground. McCoy muttered something under his breath. "That hobgoblin is nothing but trouble... If you don't shape up, I'll get a psych evaluation in here quicker than a possum running from a tractor."

Kirk looked up slowly, his eye brow's furrowed. "Wha-" He started to say, but Bones had the hypo at the base of the neck again, injecting him with something else. "Augh, fuck!" Jim shouted. Several nurses looked in their direction, startled by the sudden fowl language. He rubbed his neck furiously.

"I want to see you to check in once a week now. If I'm not personally checking your vitals, one of my nurses will." Jim rolled his eyes. "You can't make me do that." Bones held up the hypogun, a disturbing glint in his eyes, "Wanna bet?"

McCoy gave him a once over with his tricorder. The full physical could wait until next week. He was then told his face was tiring and he was to get the hell out of sick bay. "_If I see you back here before next week for any reason, I will break your head open and ship you back to Iowa,"_ were Bone's exact words. The man was obviously in need of a good lay. Jim had lost count of the amount of threats he had given him within the past year.

The walk back to his quarters was awkward. Every turn he took, there was a small group of cadets. He lowed his head slightly and smiled at them. They all stared, a few would smile back, others quickly averted their sight. The whispers were faint. Either news traveled fast or this was typical behavior that he, for some reason, had not noticed before.

Thankfully, it wasn't much of a walk to his room. Once he was inside, he exhaled and rested against the wall. That's when he realized his room was completely trashed. Clothes had been tossed all over, every drawer in his dresser open, books scattered across the shelves. An empty bottle laid in the middle of his bed, it's cap missing.

Total chaos.

Jim cleaned his room quickly. It helped distract him from his thoughts and got him focused. Since it didn't take long to get everything in order, he was out of his clothes in seconds and in the shower.

Hot water never felt so refreshing. It seemed to wash away the alcohol and clusterfuck of emotions that had consumed him last night. He let the hot water hit his neck and shoulders, the water rolling down his back. The steam was thick and wrapped around his body like a blanket, warming his skin. Jim then let his head drop back, letting the water soak into his hair and scalp.

"_Jim..." Soft lips whispering into his neck. Strong arms around his waist. Solid chest pressed against his back. Roaming hands..._

Kirk shook his head. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair. The alcohol must still be affecting him. He quickly scrubbed himself down and rinsed himself off. Once out of the shower, he dried himself quickly and slipped himself into his uniform. His communicator was wailing from his desk. Jim grabbed it on his way out the door.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_**Disclamer:**__ I only wish I could own this shit. Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry. This chapter is loosely (when I say loosely, I mean like a baby tooth dangling from the root in a ten year old's mouth) and partially based on the song "Total Revenge" by Say Anything. Also not owned by me. I say this because the song and interesting context depending on how you look at it. Really, let's pretend I never said any of that that at all._

_So, yeah. Thanks again for anyone still reading this and thanks for the new readers! I'm glad you think it's good enough to read._

_If you haven't noticed, this story might be a little slow to progress. I'm terrible sorry if that unsatisfied you. I really haven't plotted this out completely so I'm not sure how long it's going to be. When I was talking to a friend about it, I estimated 10 chapters. To be honest, I'm not sure if that's any where near correct._

_I don't know why I'm saying that._

_Anyways, don't be afraid to review/critique. Call me out on anything that isn't right/valid/logical so I can fix it. _


	4. Chapter Four: All Questions, No Answers

_**Chapter Four:**_ _All questions, No Answers_

The Enterprise had not changed much since the last time Spock was aboard. There were many faces he did not recognize, but plenty he remembered. He was not _surprised_ by the amount of warm hellos he was greeted with. He merely did not expect so many. Still, he did his best to reply in a pleasant manner.

His brief encounter with Dr. Lenard McCoy was the most curious though. He had been exploring the ship, familiarizing himself with the layout once again when he came across the Medical Bay. Doctor McCoy had just exited the doors and bumped into the Vulcan head on. "God Da-" He began to curse, but stopped when he realized the brick house he had plowed head first into. "Well, speak of the devil." McCoy put hands on his hips.

Spock's right eyebrow quirked. "Excuse me, Doctor. To what are you inferring?" McCoy, in return, raised his right eyebrow. "Never thought I would hear you say something like that again..." he chuckled and shook his head. When Spock made no response, he cleared his throat and resumed a serious expression. "I was just fixin' up Jim when he told me you were back. You sure as hell can cause a lot of trouble, even when you're not around." Spock titled his head slightly. "Doctor, are you implying I have done something wrong during my absence? I assure you, I haven't the slightest idea to what you are suggesting."

"I'm _implying _that Jim has been a wreck since you left. But you didn't hear that from me. Now if you'll excuse me..." With those final words, he walked off, moving quickly. Spock watched Doctor McCoy for a brief second before continuing on his way. The conversation had only left Spock with more questions. He felt even farther from understanding the Kirk's strange behavior.

"_To be alone."_

It was a peculiar response that had confused the Vulcan. He did not get the chance to question, for the Captain had already walked away with his head low and hands in his pockets. Spock found this very curious, as it was very unusual to see him in such a depressed state.

He could not deny that it bothered him. Although him and Kirk had left on unsatisfactory terms, he figured he would have just exhausted his anger and continued about his, as he had heard other humans put it, 'happy-go-lucky' way. Yet from their first interaction after two years of separation and from what Dr. McCoy had implied only 5.47 minutes ago, the Captain had only gotten worse. Had the Vulcan's departure really affected him that much?

Having insufficient data on the issue, he would have observe and gather more intel before coming to a proper conclusion.

Spock couldn't do much until Jim finished filling out his portion of the paperwork. So he decided to spend some time in the science labs. It was comforting to know that nothing much had changed. Plenty of familiar faces greeted him and eagerly pulled up successful and current projects that had been in progress in his absence. He merely observed, mentally noting anything he noticed was incorrect or could use some recalculating.

He found himself watching the time and suppressing a strange feeling growing inside of him. His mind wandered to thoughts of his Captain. How long would it be before they met to finish the final paperwork? He found the strange feeling clawing it's way up through him. Soon, he would have to explain himself. It wasn't like it was anything terrible, but he felt... _uncomfortable_. It was illogical to feel in such a manner, but he could not help himself.

Spock had slipped out of the science lab when a gasp caught his attention. He turned to see Lieutenant Uhura only steps away, her hand pressed against her mouth. In five, long steps he stood before her. "Spock, you've returned." She put her arms out as if she would embrace him, but quickly pulled back and resumed a professional stance. "Nyota." Her name fell strangely off his tongue. It had been so long since he had spoken it.

"It must have went well if you're back. I was worried when you didn't contact me." Her smile was wide, eyes glittering. Spock's gaze drifted to the side. "I would not say it was pleasant, but the Captain did agree to allow me back on board." Uhura's face dropped instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What happened?" Spock met her gaze. "He behaved most strangely. Tell me, have you noticed a change in Captain Kirk's behavior?" She scoffed. "Maybe a rise in promiscuity and drunken behavior, but he still has somehow to maintain his "swagger."

Spock couldn't help but tilt his head slightly and raise an eyebrow. She shifted her weight and looked away. "That was a little harsh, wasn't it?" She sighed. "It's been really strange with you gone. For all of us." She took a step closer, their bodies almost touching. He could feel her breath on his chest. Spock suddenly had the urge to step away. He held his ground though, not wanting to upset the Lieutenant.

"How are you?" Spock put his arms behind his back. "I am in good health." She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." Spock straightened his posture. "I have found stability," he replied after a long moment. She smiled. "I'm glad." Suddenly, Uhura leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Spock flinched away. "Lieutenant..." She stepped away quickly. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate-" Spock locked eyes with her and she grew silent. "We will discuss it later. For now, I need to find the Captain so I can finish my paper work."

. . . .

"Kirk here," He finally answered the wail of his communicator. "It's Lieutenant Uhura. Spock is requesting to meet you in the conference room." She sounded like she was in a somewhat better mood. "I'm on my way. Kirk out." Jim tucked the communicator safely on his belt and walked in full stride.

People seemed to shy away from him as he walked through the corridors. He tried to smile, but it was as if he was missing his pants or something. He looked down quickly and was relieved to find himself fully clothed. He continued to walk with his head high, smiling at every person he passed.

In no time, he reached the conference room. He hesitated at the door, knowing what was waiting for him inside. Jim's stomach turned violently and his palms began to sweat. He almost pivoted and bolted, but knew there was no avoiding his Commander. If anything, he had to know why Spock left.

He took a deep breath and entered the conference room.

. . . .

Spock stood at the head of the table, taking his usual military stance. He heard the door open and someone enter the room. There was no mistaking who it was. Spock turned to see his Captain, face flushed and hair damp from the shower. A very brief, unreadable look ghosted though his expression before a smile broke his lips. "Mr. Spock, good morning," he greeted with a strangely cheer voice. "Captain. While the greeting is appreciated, it is no longer morning." Kirk laughed and stopped only steps away. "Well, I may of woken up a little late so it's still morning to me."

Spock felt completely disconcerted the sudden shift of Kirk's mood. Things were not connecting. "Are you ill, Captain?" Spock asked. Jim looked taken aback. "No, why would you think that?" Spock opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no answer. "I apologize. I am mistaken in my inquiry."

Kirk stared at him for a second longer before seating himself. He motioned for Spock to sit next to him. Spock did as he requested. Kirk booted up the PADD on the table before him and signed in. His hands were quick, accessing the required paperwork.

The silence in the room was stiff and nearly suffocating. Spock watched Jim quietly type in all the information and initial ever line. Fascinating. He found himself oddly mesmerized by his Captain's hands. They made swift, smooth movements. Spock realized he was concentrating too hard on Jim's hands and forced himself to look somewhere else.

Finally, the brunette stopped. He stared at the screen of the PADD, a blank look on his face. "Spock..." His voice was so quiet. He set the device just off to the side. Jim's gaze stayed on the table. It was then he knew. He wanted to know why Spock left. The half Vulcan stood and moved to the other side of the table.

"Two years ago, I was informed that there was a small outbreak on New Vulcan. Choriocytosis. Are you familiar with the disease?" Jim spoke up immediately, "It's a virus that that affects the blood cells, right? Makes it so they can't carry oxygen." Spock ignored the bit of surprise he felt. "Yes. While it can affect humans with little damage, it is fatal to Vulcans." Spock hesitated before continuing on. "My father was infected a 7.6 days after I had been informed of the outbreak."

He couldn't look him. Why couldn't he look at his Captain? "There was a shipment of Stroblin on it's way to New Vulcan. They almost didn't get it in time to save my father. It was an aggressive strain and more Vulcans were being infected. I helped administer the drugs. There were ten fatalities in all."

Jim appeared at his side. "Why didn't you just say something, Spock? Did you think I wouldn't have let gone to help?" Spock finally met eyes with his Captain. His bright blue eyes were cold, slightly angry, but mostly... _pained_. Spock looked away, holding back a shiver that threatened to crawl it's way down his spine. "While that was the biggest influence in my decision to leave, it was not my only reason."

Spock shifted his weight uncomfortably. "After hearing about the outbreak, I became very..." He found his tongue felt thick in his mouth. Swollen. "I became... _afraid._" There, he finally said it. His gaze dropped to the floor. "I had already lost my mother, my planet, y-" He stopped himself. The memory of Kirk on the other side of the glass flashed in his mind. Cerulean eyes fading fast. A rush of blood burned his ears. "I became concerned that I was going to loose my father and more of Vulcan as well. It was then I noticed I had little control of my emotions. My barriers, weak. I needed to find the stability I had lost. With the help of my father, I was able to tear down my old barriers and rebuild stronger ones."

He finally turned to look at Jim. Suddenly, two arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. All the muscles in Spock's body tensed. He felt Kirk's forehead against his neck. He could smell the soap of his skin. The shampoo in his still damp hair. Those strong hands on his back. Spock's barriers slammed shut, cutting off any emotions.

"Forgive me," Jim whispered before pulling away. He then reached across the table and grabbed the PADD. He signed it with the stylist before submitting it. "Welcome back, Mr. Spock." He was out the door in seconds.

Spock stood there, stunned. What had he meant by, _forgive me_? Was he talking about the sudden (_and inappropriate, might he add)_physical affection? Or had he meant something else? And why had his mouth gone dry and his jaw too tight to get out a single word before the Captain left?

Spock adjusted his shirt before heading back to the science labs. If he hadn't been far from answer before, he definitely was now.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_**Disclaimer:**_ ___Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry. A bad ass mother fucker._

___Okay, so, um, yeah. This chapter was a beotch to write. Seriously. Please, someone teach me how to write a 3rd perspective Spock. Actually, just Spock in general. And what do you guys thing about Spock's reasoning on leaving? God, I hope you don't hate it. I hope it makes sense and it's like a really creative/cool (probably not) way of dealing with the situation._

___-laughs, loud and nervous-_

___Thank you to ChernobylKrigare, Peaceandunity, and mfm2885 for your reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far and I hope you continue to like it! Also, thanks to any new followers/favorites! It really helps to know that some people are enjoying the story. Don't forget to review/critique/tell me I'm a fucking nut job._

___Finally, an alcohol free chapter! That only took, what, four chapters? We should all make bets how many chapters will involve some kind of liquor. I'll put down $10 to start._

___The next chapter should be a little more upbeat (At least, I expect it to be. I have been known to lie). And then I will stab your heart out with more angst and alcohol and shitty childhood memories. OOPS, did I say that out loud? Don't let me scare you. I'll make sure to throw some heavy petting and maybe even a little 'nudge-nudge-wink-wink-if-you-know-what-I'm-saying ' soon enough._

_ALSO: Sorry for anyone who likes consistent updates. I pretty much write this thing off the fly and really just do what I want._


	5. Chapter Five: Falling into the Nightmare

**__****Chapter Five:**___ Falling into the Nightmare_

It had been just over two week and neither of them had spoken of what had happened in the conference room. Really, Jim wasn't sure about the situation himself. It was as if his body moved on it's own. Never, would he have guessed how much muscle the Vulcan harbored under that slim figure. Sculpted like a Greek statue. But the thing he remembered most was his smell. Laundered clothes and spice. It was a pleasant smell. Too pleasant.

He did his best to hide his face after he pulled away, well aware it was bright red. It took nearly an hour for the embarrassment to subside. He kept himself composed externally, but his heart pounded against his sternum with a bruising force.

He wished he could smell him again.

___'No,' _He scolded himself. Maybe those few, quick sips this morning wasn't a good idea. He threw his whole body into the final blow. The punching bag swung back, catching a surprising amount of air. As it came back down, he step aside to avoid being knocked down.

"Hey, Captain!" A voice called from across the room. Jim turned to see Sulu standing on the floor mats. He grabbed the punching bag and stopped its sway. "How about we go a couple of rounds?" Jim wiped the sweat from his brow. How long had it been since he had sparred with Sulu. Or anyone else for that matter. Maybe it would do him some good. He gave a quick nod before joining his helmsman on the mats. A smile broke the Asian's face and he began stretching. Jim mirrored his movements, even though he had already done some before working on the punching bag.

It felt good to work a stretch his muscles. They had gotten sluggish over the past year. Jim had slacked on exercise. His excuse was that he was "too busy." Really, he just didn't have the energy after work and preferred kicking back with a bottle. But since Spock had returned and McCoy had ransacked his room (luckily there was a small stash stored in his vent), he spent every chance he got in the gymnasium.

"Ready?" the raven haired man asked. Jim nodded and took up a stance. He didn't expect the smaller man to strike so fast. To dodge the incoming fist, his arms went up and he leaned left. The hit grazed his arms. He pulled back quickly and struck again with a bladed hand to Jim's side. Unable to avoid the blow, he braced himself. This gave him an opening. His elbow connected with Sulu's shoulder. The helmsman fell back. Jim took his chance and delivered a series of hits. The helmsman blocked them easily before knocking his full mass into Jim and sent him tumbling to the floor.

"You've always been a clumsy fighter," Sulu laughed, holding out a hand. Jim took it and stood. He brushed himself off. "I'm just out of practice," was his gruff reply. "You're still as strong as ever, Captain." A smile broke Kirk's face before he could stop it. "Damn right."

They sparred a few more times before Jim had to stop. Clearly out of shape, they ended their last spar with Jim sprawled on the floor. He panted for air while Sulu stretched down. "Another round?" Sulu asked with a hint of humor. Jim glared at him with his ice blue eyes. "I think I'm good for today." A hand was offered to him but Jim waved it away. "I think I'll hang out here for a while. It's a good view of the ceiling." Sulu rolled his eyes and pulled him to his feet.

Jim chatted with Sulu briefly before parting ways and heading back to his quarters. Although he was extremely tired, he couldn't stand the smell of himself. Slowly, he stripped out of his clothes and dragged himself into the bathroom. When he went to start up the shower, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He quickly turned away, not very impressed by what he saw.

The hot water soothed the fatigue of his muscles. He took his time washing, enjoying the heat. At one point, he contemplated napping in the shower. The thought made him laugh. After he was fresh and clean, he begrudgingly got out and toweled off.

He didn't realize how exhausted he was until he slipped into his boxers and sat down on his bed. His next shift was in just a few hours. A short nap couldn't hurt. Laying back, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into sleep.

. . . .

___The sun was incredibly warm, but it felt good on his back. The clouds were light and wispy, drifting lazily across the cool blue sky. He extended out his arms from his sides. The green wheat stalks tickled his wrists and palms. "Jim!" A voice called him. He turned to see who it was. His brother tackled him into the grass. They tumbled into the green sea. "SAM!" he giggled._

"___Mom is leaving soon." There was a sadness in his voice. Jim looked over at his brother. "She'll be back. She just has to go off planet for a while..." The warmth of the sun had faded into a cool evening. The clouds, glowing with gold and pink, had thickened and grew still. He could hear the crickets starting up their chorus."Maybe."_

"___Worthless. Absolutely worthless! Just like your brother." Frank's face was purple with rage. His hands were strong. They dug into arm. A vice. The pain seeped deep into his bones. Why wouldn't he just let go? He could feel the blood pooling just beneath the skin._

___The green grass tickled his palms._

"___I can't be a kirk in this house." Don't leave me, Sam. Don't leave me alone. Not with him. But the older boy turned his back. Started down the dirt road. Disappeared into the sea of gold._

___He found it in the barn. Coiled like a rattler ready to strike. Bright yellow. It tangled it's self in his fingers. The texture gave him shivers: rough and firm._

"___I'll be back soon Jimmy. Don't worry!" Her smile was so warm. Her pale blonde hair fell in waves, slightly obscuring her face. Don't go. Please. She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead. She was so far away. Always just out of reach._

___Always so alone._

"___I'm leaving Enterprise." Don't leave. Please stay. I need you. Why couldn't he speak? The anger boiled inside of him. Even the pain in his hand didn't hurt as much. "Then get off my ship." It slipped from his mouth so easily. It tasted like venom. Bitter. They always left. Yet it hurt worse each time._

"**__****Jim."**

___Franks hands were so strong. They clawed and dug into Jim's neck. He couldn't breath. Tighter and tighter. Crushing his throat. "A nobody." He couldn't get his fingers beneath the cord. He was going to die._

"**__****Jim, wake up!"**

___. . . ._

Spock was irritated with Captain Kirk. He had been increasingly odd since their talk. He only directed himself to Spock when he had to and quickly dodged him any chance he got. While these things were only slightly bothersome at first, being late for the shift _and not_ answer his communicator made his jaw clench. That was until he heard the screaming on the other side of the door. He raced in, phaser ready. He couldn't help but feel a little surprise when he found Jim half naked, writhing around on the bed. Spock tucked his phaser back into it's holder and approached the bed.

He watched Jim's bare chest rise and fall rapidly. His eyes moved frantically behind his eyelids and a sweat had given his skin a sheen. "Captain." Jim made no response. "Captain, wake up," He raised his voice slightly. Jim only rolled onto his side, showing his back to Spock. He curled into himself and whimpered.

Spock remembered back to a time he witness his mother suffering the same situation. He had gotten home from school and found her resting in the living room. He watched curiously, her rhythmic breathing oddly comforting. Suddenly, she called out for his father. In a panic, he woke her. While she suffered all the same symptoms, it hand only taken 23.5 seconds to wake her.

Jim rolled on to his back and began shouting. Spock quickly grasped him by the shoulders. "Captain. Please, wake up." Jim shook his head and trashed against Spock. "Jim. Wake up!" He shook him hard. Yet Jim continued his restless sleep.

Spock grabbed his communicator and flipped it open. It was possible that Dr. McCoy would know of a way to stir Jim from his slumber. Just as he began to speak, Jim made a strangled noise. Spock looked to see him clawing at his throat, gasping for air. Red lines trailed behind his nails. Dropping his communicator, he grabbed Jim's hands and pulled them away. This caused Jim to thrash and he began hyperventilating. "Captain!" Spock shouted, but Jim only fought against him harder.

Not knowing what else to do, he freed his dominate hand and pressed his fingers into his Captain's face.

_Melding with Jim's mind had been like slipping into the arctic ocean during a storm. Spock almost couldn't break through the icy surface. Waves of emotions crashing down on him. He braced himself against the current and fought to dive beneath it._

_Loneliness. It was the first feeling he felt beneath the chaos once he broke though. The feeling was all too familiar to Spock. He was briefly reminded of his childhood. Spock had never imagined the Captain to be so lonely. Jim was usually social and constantly surrounded himself with company._

_Spock was suddenly pulled into a stream of images and emotions. Quick flashes of a field of green, young boys running, fear, rage, bruises, abandonment. The images and feelings were too brief to fully comprehend. There was nothing to grab on to._

_Then, he found Jim._

_"Then get off my ship." Spock had remembered those words quiet well. He had never seen such a rage in his captain's cerulean eyes. At the time he had thought Captain Kirk's reaction was quiet illogical. Yet this time, he felt as the Captain felt: an strange ache. The feeling confused him. "Jim," he called out. He could feel Jim. He should be able to pull him out._

_But then everything shifted. Panic and fear. A realization of verging death. The feeling of cord beneath his fingers. Spock realized needed to get out. He needed to pull Jim from his nightmare. He was too deep and he felt himself drowning in Jim's emotions. "Jim, wake up!" He shouted, hoping Jim would hear him._

. . . .

Jim gasped and his eyes flew open. Something was holding him down. There was a strange pressure on his face. Panicked, he began to writhe around. "Captain!" A very concerned Vulcan shouted. Jim settled when he realized who it was.

"Mr. Spock... What are you doing here?" Spock stared down at him, his eyes like black pools. His breathing was heavier than usual."When you were 17.67 minutes late for your shift, I tried to hail you. After 5.37 minutes of no response, the next logical thing was to investigate." Jim felt his face flush.

Spock must have realized he still had Jim pinned to the bed. He pulled away quickly. "I heard you screaming and thought you were under attack. I was surprised when I found you were only sleeping." Jim sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He buried his face into his hands, which were trembling. "I believe you were experiencing a nightmare." Jim shook his head and stood. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Captain, when I couldn't wake you, I attempted a mind meld-" Jim's whole body tensed. He shot a icy glare over at the Commander. "What?" Spock seemed uncomfortable. "You would not wake to my voice or physical contact. I was about to contact Dr. McCoy when you began to claw at your throat. I feared you would harm-"

" What did you see?" Spock was silent. Jim's stomach twisted and he grew livid. "___What did you see, Spock?" _His voice was sharp and loud. "I'm not exactly sure, Captain." Jim's hands clenched into fists. "Don't ___ever _do anything like that again." Spock stood from the bed. He looked ready to argue. "That is an order, ___Commander._" Spock straightened his clothes, his face neutral. He put his arms behind his back. "Yes, Captain. I will see you on the bridge."

Jim watched him leave. The moment the door closes, he felt regret. The Vulcan had only tried to help. Yet he couldn't stand the thought of someone digging around in his head. Especially Spock. There were too many things hiding there.

Jim rubbed his eyes vigorously. He was already late for his shift and since he didn't drink on the job, the bottle would have to wait. While slipping into his uniform, a sudden tickle in his nose caused a loud sneeze. The force caused a his head to snap back. He groaned loudly and clutched onto his neck. Hopefully it was nothing. They would reach Omicron Ceti Three soon.

* * *

******Author's Note**

**__****Disclaimer: **___Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry. Therefore, I own no rights to it._

___I lied when I said the next chapter was going to be upbeat. I don't know what happened. I guess I'm really just in the mood for writing angst and a lot of things are changing and showing themselves a lot earlier than originally planed. This is what happens when you write on the fly._

___I'm not sure Spock's mind meld is like... appropriate? Oops. IT'S FAN FICTION THOUGH, RIGHT?!_

___So, I'm terribly sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I've had a pretty rough summer. I got depressed and made some stupid mistakes. Things are getting fixed, but it's no excuse. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. -fingers tightly crossed- I was really excited to write fan fiction again and I really don't want to give it up just yet. I was also told I couldn't stop writing._

___Thanks everyone for the favorites/follows/reviews! I've never had much of a response with my other work. I'm very happy that you all seem to enjoy it and I hope I do justice to the story! Garyxmrchairfan: I do feel really special! I'm glad my story got picked first. Cheshirekitten909: Looks like its just you and me kid. I hope you know how to gamble. I RAISE YOU BY $5 AND SAY 9 CHAPTERS._

___ALSO: What color is Jim's hair? Everyone says blonde, but it looks brown to me (maybe I'm confused by Chris Pine's natural hair color which I'm pretty sure he is a brunette). Maybe like a dirty blonde? Does it really matter? I don't even know._


	6. Chapter Six: A Long and Incredibly Weird

_**Chapter Six:**__ A Long and Incredibly Weird Dream_

"Approaching Omicron Ceti Three, sir." Chekov looked back at Jim. "Standard orbit, Ensign Chekov," He replied. Was it just him, or was it incredibly warm on the bridge? Nobody else seemed uncomfortable. "Yes Keptin." Jim shifted in his seat. He was still stiff from the secret binge he had in his room last night after nabbing a few bottles of whiskey from Bone's office.

He was going to have one hell of a lecture when the Medical Officer looked in his drawer.

"Captain," Uhura called. Jim got up from his chair. In a few swift strides, he was at her side. "Yes, Lieutenant." While her expression was mostly neutral, he could see a hint of worry in her eyes. "I've been transmitting a contact signal every five minutes. All I get is dead air. Shall I continue?" Kirk's eyes wandered to his Commander's station. "Maintain transmission pattern until we've established orbit," he responded. She gave a nod and turned back to the station in front of her.

"Mr. Spock," he approached the science officer slowly. The last few days had been incredibly awkward between the two. Far worse than the weeks before. He had tried to apologize the day after, but the Vulcan dodged him every chance. On shift, he was cold and distance; never once looking in Jim's direction. As frustrating as it was, he didn't know what else to do except give Spock time to come around.

"There were one hundred and fifty men, women, and children in that colony. What are the chances of survivors?" He asked, placing his hand on the back of his Commander's chair. Spock glanced up at him. "Absolutely none, Captain. Berthold rays are such a recent discovery. We do not yet have full knowledge of their nature. It is known, however, that living animal tissue disintegrates under exposure. Sandoval's group could not have survived after three years." Kirk felt an uneasiness in his stomach. "Are you saying that those people built a future in a place knowing they might not survive?" Spock tilted his head slightly. "I am saying they knew there was a risk." Kirk straightened himself and crossed his arms over his chest. "What about us? Can we afford to send people to the planet's surface?"

"The breakdown of tissue does not develop immediately. We can risk a limited exposure."

"Keptin, we've established orbit. I have pinpointed settlement." Kirk glanced in Chekov's direction. "Thank you, Chekov. Mr, Spock," Kirk headed back to the Captain's chair. "Equip a landing party of five to accompany me to the planet's surface. Include Doctor McCoy and a biologist. I'll want them in ten minutes."

. . . .

The landing party was beamed onto a small farm. It was a nice place with lush plants. No animals could be seen or heard. An eerie feeling hit Kirk when he realized his crew the only flesh and bone on the planet. He shook his head. He couldn't believe another dream had failed. It had taken the settlement a year to reach this planet. But it was all for nothing.

Jim was surprised when his landing party was suddenly greeted by Elias Sandoval with handshakes and a warm welcome. "We haven't seen anyone outside out group for four years since we left Earth. We've been expecting someone for some time. Our subspace raido didn't work properly, and I'm afraid we didn't have anyone who could master it's intricacies." Jim tilted his head slightly. "Actually, Mr. Sandoval, we didn't come here because of your silent radio-" Elias only smiled and shrugged it off. "It makes little difference, Captain. You are here. We're happy to see you. Come, let me show you our settlement."

While the rest of the group followed after Elias, Jim fell back with McCoy, Spock, and Sulu. "This is just pure speculation. An educated guess, really, but I'd say that man is alive," McCoy said in a low voice. "Captain, this planet is being bombarded by Berthold rays, as our reports indicated. At this intensity, we'll be safe for a week if necessary. But-" Spock chimed in. "But these people shouldn't be alive..." Jim finished. They shared a look. "Is it possible that they're not?" Sulu asked. McCoy shook his head. "You shook hands with him, Jim. His flesh was warm. He's alive. There's no doubt about that."

"There's also no question of the fact that Berthold rays are incontrovertibly deadly. There's no miracle connected with it, Doctor. You know that. No cures, no serums, no antidotes. If a man is exposed long enough, he dies," Spock spoke with his _it's-only_-logic tone. The four men came to a stop and shared looks between each other. "Sounds like we have some questions that need answers." Jim forced a smile and started walking after the group again.

They spoke to Elias after a short tour. He informed them that they had two other settlements on the planet. His eyes lit up joyously as he spoke. "An ideal agricultural planet" where his words. Jim informed him of their mission. He merely smiled and gave them the right away. "I think you'll find our settlement an interesting one. Our philosophy is a simple one, that men should return to a less complicated life. We have few mechanical things here. No vehicles, no weapons. We have harmony here. Complete peace."

. . . .

"Mr. Spock, can I speak to you?" Jim asked as they walked though the small garden towards the back of the farm. "You are doing so now, Captain," he responded. Jim rolled his eyes. "Look, I really want to talk about the other day-" Spock stopped abruptly. Jim, not paying attention, walked right into him. He stumbled back slightly. "Jesus-" Spock turned to him, his brown eyes not quiet meeting Jim's bright blue ones.

"Captain, I apologize for my actions. My intention was not to invade your personal space." Jim tried to speak, but Spock kept talking. "I merely wanted to protect you from hurting yourself. As your Commanding Officer, it is my duty. When you didn't wake from the nightmare as you should have, I only briefly melded with you so to pull you out of your sleep. I promise never to speak of what I saw, although I am puzzled as to what exactly I witnessed."

Jim blinked and shook his head. "Spock. I just wanted to say I'm sorry getting upset with you." Spock stared at him. "Besides, it could have been worse, right?" Spock titled his head in that adorable way (wait, did Jim just think _adorable?_) he always did when he was confused. "To what are you inferring?" Jim briefly thought of the hot dream he had had involving a very sexy green woman he had met at the academy. It got him wondering if the Vulcan had ever had dreams like that. Did he ever think of Uhura while he slept? Her long, dark hair spilled across his bed. Luscious lips gasping his name. _How could he not?_ "Captain?" Jim blinked. As he went to speak, a loud sneeze escaped him.

When he looked up, he caught a faint startled look on the Vulcan's face that disappeared instantly. He sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Are you ill? Your complexion has paled." Jim shook his head. "It's nothing. Back to work, Commander." With that, Jim wandered off to do his own work.

McCoy ran his test on the settlers while the rest of the landing party explored the environment. Each response was the same; no other life minus the colonist and various types of flora. When Kirk asked Bones of his findings, he was informed that every one of the colonist was in perfect health.

"Sandoval's medical record, four years ago when the expedition left Earth." McCoy handed Jim his PADD. Jim looked over the file. "He registered scar tissue on his lungs from lobar pneumonia suffered when he was a child. No major operations, but there was an appendectomy. Received all required inoculations, etc." Jim handed the PADD back to McCoy with a shurg. " What's so strange about that?" McCoy seemed frustrated. "Nothing, but I examined that man no more than two hours ago. You know what his readings were? Perfect, perfect, and perfect!" He threw his hands up into the air. "I thought maybe it was an instrument malfunction. I tested it on myself and you know what happened?" Jim shook his head. "Dammit Jim, it accurately recorded my lack of tonsils and those two broken ribs I had once. You remember?" Jim rubbed his jaw, which was in need of a shave. "Yeah, I remember..." His voice trailed off. Bones was ranting about something, but Jim wasn't really listening.

This planet was starting to creep him out. The settlers were _too_ happy. It didn't bother them that the rays of the planet should have killed them. The fact that they had no animals didn't unsettle their stomachs. They went about their marry way, working around the farm and smiling at everyone that passed.

An then things got even weirder.

He wasn't sure what exactly happened. But over the next couple of days, Sulu and Scotty wouldn't answer their communicators. Elias refused to leave the planet as well as the rest of the colonist. He was pretty sure he caught Chekov running off with one of the science cadets, faces flushed and giggling gleefully. Everyone began speaking of "seeing" and paradise. _The flower will make you see. _Yet when he asked for someone to explain about the flower, no one was willing to explain.

And then most of his crew members suddenly had the idea of joining the colony. Nobody would listen to him. They laughed and told him to relax. There was no sickness to worry about. No troubles. Only bliss.

"Bones, can you tell me what the hell is going on down here because I can't seem to figure it out," He growled as he approached his friend. Bones turned to him, a wide grin on his face. "Hiya Jimmy boy. Don't you worry about a thing. I've taken care of everything." Jim noticed a pile of large flowers being beamed up. They were a deep red with white tips. The petals came together in the center before flaring out dramatically. "Wait-" Jim paused. "Are you... Are you beaming those up onto my ship?" McCoy's smile only stretched farther. "Well, of course! I can tell you haven't come around yet. You'll understand once you do."

Jim gave him an exasperated look. "When I come around? Could you enlighten me to what exactly you mean by that?" McCoy sighed and held his hands behind his back. "Jim boy, y'all ever have a real cold Georgia-style mint julep?" The blonde closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. "A what? What does that even have to do-" McCoy put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "It's a great thing. Once you come around, I'll make us one."

Jim couldn't take it. "Stop. Don't send any more of those up. I'm serious Bones." He then demanded to be beamed up. The cadet working in the transporter room targeted his location and beamed him aboard Enterprise. "Is there something wrong Captain Kirk?" Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes. Yes there is something wrong. But not with me." The cadet smiled, clearly not understanding what he meant.

. . . .

The ship was nearly empty. The silence was unbearable. Kirk wandered the corridors, hoping someone was still sane. He had almost lost hope when he past by the science bay. He spotted a familiar black bowl cut with his back to him. Jim nearly jumped with joy. He muttered a thank you beneath his breath and rushed in.

"Spock!" He shouted. The Vulcan looked up at him. He was inspecting one of the flowers that McCoy had beamed up. "Cap-" Suddenly, a stream of spores came shooting out and hit him square in the face. Jim almost laughed as Spock stumbled back. It wasn't until Spock fell to his knees did he realize what had happened. He rushed to his Commander's side.

"No! Please..." He curled into himself. "Spock, what's wrong?" Jim grabbed onto the shaking shoulder. "I can't!" Panic twisted his gut. "Can't what?" Spock grew still and quiet. He slowly looked up a Jim.

There was a brief moment when Jim thought his heart stopped in his chest. Had his eyes always been so dark with a burst of gold? Jim felt like he was being sucked in. His chest tight and mouth dry. So close, he could smell that smell he had been missing. He could feel Spock's breath on his lips. Dizziness hit him.

And then so did a sneeze.

Luckily, he was able to turn away so to avoid spraying Spock with spittle. Unluckily, the force of the sneeze sent him back on his ass. He groaned. Not his most attractive moment, but he had been through worse. "Jim, you are ill." The blonde sniffled. "No, really..." Spock advanced towards him. Jim backed away, terrified of the feelings he had just felt stirring inside of him. "Jim, I can help..." Jim got to his feet quickly and Spock did the same. "Seriously, I'm fine. It's just a sneeze." Spock pinned him up against one of the tables. "Please, let me help."

He pressed his hand against Jim's forehead. His hands were soft and warm. "What are you doing?" He asked, his heart beating furiously against his ribs. "It was something my mother did to me as a child. An improper way of estimating the temperature of my body." Jim was baffled. Was that a smile? It wasn't like Spock to-

The spores. They had infected him. "Jim, your heart rate has increased drastically and your face is flushed." It should have bothered him. The slight concern, but warmth in his voice. "Your pupils are dilated..." His voice trailed off. The Vulcan shouldn't have that look in his eyes. Shouldn't be so close. Lips slightly parted. The sight made James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, forget how to breath.

When Spock had leaned into Jim and pressed their lips together, he wasn't sure. There was just the feeling of a soft mouth against his. Innocent, yet wanting. Nothing like Jim had ever imaged. Not that he had ever... This had all been a dream. A long and incredibly weird dream. Because Spock would _never_ kiss Jim.

And Jim would _definitely_ never kiss Spock back.

* * *

**Authors Note**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Star Trek. This cool guy made it once upon a time. You know him? Also, much of the text was pulled from the script on 1x24: This Side of Paradise. Some of it I changed, but if you've seen the episode, you'll recognize some of the dialog. So, no, I don't own that either. _

_So, I made some minor edits in the previous chapter. Nothing big, but you can go back and read it if you like. I might go back and edit the previous chapter later on. I was reading them and realized they were kind of sloppy in style and grammar and what not. I don't know. I'm pretty lazy. I tried making this a more "upbeat/happy/funny" chapter. I hope it wasn't too terrible. While I enjoy comedic things, I've never really be good at writing them._

_I sat down and really thought about what direction I was taking this story. No surprise, its taken a complete turn. While I still have certain plot points set, other things have sprung up and festered and become into something I never imaged: a vicious, angsty love story with a lot of sexual frustration and no hand jobs to ease the loneliness. Please, I'm trying. Don't kill me._

_Finally, some sweet action between the boys. I hope it helps ebb the pain from the little action they have been getting. What can I say, I'm old fashioned and I like to move slow. Hopefully it will pick up soooooooon._

_THANKS TO EVERYONE REVIEWING AND READING AND FOLLOWING AND YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL. I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOU MAKE WRITING THIS STORY WORTH WHILE. _


	7. Chapter Seven: The Little Things

_**Chapter Seven: **__The Little Things_

After the flood of emotions that overwhelmed Spock, he felt peace. He had tried to hold them back at first, but then everything faded into a soft bliss. It was as if he had been truly awake for the first time. Everything made sense. The colonist, the flowers, the change in the crew. Yet none of it matter. All that mattered was that the pain was gone. He looked up and met Jim's eyes; those cerulean eyes that he had found himself quite fond of over time (not that he would admit it before). They were wide and wild. Searching.

He was quite the example of a human, attractive even to many non-Terrans. Spock had witness many females, and even males, of different origins giggle and swoon over the slightly disheveled dirty blond hair and charming smile. They whispered about what hue of blue his eyes were in different lighting. Sometimes, they even would stop to stare at his body while he was in the gym, nudging each other when a bit of skin would reveal itself.

At first, Spock had to refrained from using the very human reaction of rolling his eyes. But after some time, he couldn't help but noticed the small things about his Captain. The way he leaned so casually, his smile when he was hiding something, how his hands moved, his laugh when he was with Bones compared to his laugh when he was with Sulu, the roll of his eyes when irritated, dark lashes from a profile, full lips twitching into a smug smile when he proved to be right.

It was typical of Vulcans to be hyper-aware. Therefore, his observations weren't out of the ordinary._ 'Merely trying to pick up a better understanding on human mannerisms and so forth,' _he told himself. But he was drawn to Jim's side, constantly watching him out of his peripheral vision. It was hard to not notice the tone he used when he swore or how he relaxed into the Captain's chair as if it was the only place to be.

It was soon after Jim's death and revival that Spock noticed that the observations had become more than scientific. It was a comfort, _a need_, to be at Jim's side. Watching every little shift in weight, noticing ever intake of breath. Jim had infiltrated his thoughts. Feelings that Spock desperately tried to ignore and suppress, slipped through his barriers. He grew frustrated, confused by foreign emotions. He felt his stability slipping.

So after the outbreak on New Vulcan was handled, he spent nearly two years of destroying and rebuilding, telling himself he was just suffering a moment of weakness. Emotionally compromised from everything he had suffered. But when he saw Jim from across the bar, every little detail came into crystal clear focus; his hair that was messier than usual, a noticeable five o'clock shadow had yet to be cared for, and his face had thinned. Upon closer inspection revealed a discoloration around the eyes like fading bruises and crows feet began to show. There was even a tiny scar that had appeared just above his left eyebrow.

The next few weeks would prove to test his barriers and stability; the strange embrace, the inability to face on another while still sharing a shift, the confrontation, and dealing with more avoidance tactics. Still, he had managed to get through every second without feeling out of control or too emotional. Sure, he felt plenty of discomfort and irritation, but nothing that was more than normal.

Suddenly, Jim turned his face away and sneezed violently. Spock was pulled from his train of thought and he watched as Jim fell back on his butt. "Jim, you are ill," Spock stated. Jim was quick to deny the statement. But it was obvious to Spock. He had noticed the symptoms earlier during their expedition. He moved towards him, but Jim immediately moved away. Finally, he pinned him up against one of the lab tables and pressed his hand onto Jim's forehead.

"What are you doing?" _Lonely. Fear. Soft, warm hands. Hot. _Emotions and thoughts flowed under his fingers freely. "It was something my mother did to me as a child. An improper way of estimating the temperature of my body." There was an increase in heart rate. Jim's cheeks noticeably flushed red. His pupils dilated. _A smile? Desire. Fear. It's just the spores. Lips. Can't breath. How do you breath?_

_Desire._ It burned like a fever under Spock's fingertips, screaming to be felt, wanted. An urge to drink him in and taste the heat of it hit Spock like a wave. In that moment, more than anything, he wanted to be infected by Jim's desire. Leaning forward, Spock pressed his lips into the other male's. It was a similar physical sensation he felt when he kissed Uhura, but there was something different. There was a feeling he had never felt with her. It reminded him of electricity coursing through water. The feeling intensified when Jim pressed into him, responding to the kiss.

_Dream. Must be dreaming. Burning. Spock would never. Lust._

Suddenly, he was being pushed away. Jim was as white as a sheet. "This isn't happening." Spock tilted his head slightly. "I only-" Jim shook his head and stumbled past his Commander. "No, it's the spores. They're messing with your head. Making everything all weird..." Jim began to sway slightly. "I think I'm going to be sick..." He braced himself up against one of the lab tables.

"Why do you fight it, Jim? If you would just take the spores in, you would understand." Jim barely glanced in his direction. "For the first time in my life, I feel peace. Down there, we will live in paradise. There are no needs or wants. We can just live," He further explained. Kirk scoffed and finally met Spock's eyes. They were like ice. "I didn't come out to space to find paradise, Mr. Spock. I came to explore. To discover-" Jim suddenly stopped himself. "Jim?" Spock asked several (7.36 to be exact) seconds. "Nothing. Never mind."

Jim sighed. _Tired. Hot. Can't be real. That kiss. Not real. _Spock titled his head slightly. He was no longer in contact with Jim, but he could still feel him. Faint, but there. "I know you are lonely. I can sense it. But here, you don't have to be. The spores can show you-" _Anger. _It spiked through his abdomen. The feeling surprised him. "You are upset." Jim shook his head. He spoke thought clenched teeth. "You don't get it. Nobody does."

_Drowsy. Hurt. Need a stiff drink. Confusion. Anger. Can't be real. Alone. _Spock was suddenly being bombarded by emotions that weren't his own. He felt them deep within, sharp and intense. Startled, he staggered backwards into the lab table, knocking over a tray. It clattered to the floor loudly.

The spores were dying.

It was a strange feeling, the bliss wilting inside of him. It was almost physically painful. His stomach twisted and his his head throbbed. _Confused. Concern. Miss you._ Jim's feelings were with him. A concerning issue. Was it possible he had made some kind of link? He quickly put up his barriers and took a deep breath. "The spores..." Spock began, his voice becoming flat. "They died." Don't feel a thing. It is the Vulcan way. "I am no longer with them."

. . . .

It had been an easy fix. A subsonic transmitter. It was Kirk's ideas after Spock explained how he suddenly felt the spores dying within him after a surge of intense, overwhelming emotions. They hooked it into the communications system and had it broadcast it over the communicator. Chaos ensued, but no one was injured. At least nothing _too_ serious. The flowers were removed and the crew was returned. The colonists were a little dazed, but agreed to board the ship and be transported to Star Base Twenty Seven. Mission accomplished, right?

If accomplishing the mission meant obtaining the flu, nearly losing all his crew and Enterprise, kissing his First Officer, and feeling like an emotional train wreck, then...

Yes. Mission accomplished.

"I've examined all the crew and colonists. Everyone else is in perfect health." Jim sighed, relieved. "Good." McCoy shot him a look. "Except you. I don't know how you managed it, but you have the flu and your allergies are acting up." Jim shrugged. "It's not a big deal, Bones. I'll be fine." Bones stabbed a hypo into the base of his neck. "No, you won't. You need at least a day's rest. Maybe more." Jim began to protest loudly. "I don't want you gallivanting around, getting everyone else sick." Thus, he was escorted to his quarters. Not that Jim should really complain about a few days rest. His head was foggy and he wasn't in a particular mood for dealing with anyone.

Once alone, he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and crawled into bed. Jim buried his face into his pillow. He wanted to sleep, but everything ached and his fever had only dropped slightly. So he tossed and turned for several minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. It didn't take long for his mind to wander to Spock and their kiss. The minute the image appeared in his mind, his blood burned. Every little thing in that moment was imprinted into his memory: the darkness of his eyes, his parted lips, the way he smelt, the texture of his hands, how his nose bumped into his cheek slightly.

There was undeniably something there, lurking in the pit of his stomach. A feeling that, Jim quickly realized, had been there for awhile. Hiding within him. It was one of the feelings he had tried to drown in alcohol and sex with strangers.

Because Jim didn't swing that way and he didn't commit.

He had slept with many women: Terran, Xeno, innocent, wild. He liked their curves and soft flesh. The way way the bounced and gasped in pleasure. Not every sexual encounter was especially pleasing (he vaguely remembered a girl he met before the academy who liked it whips and handcuffs), but the success rate of fantastic sex was at least 91 percent. Once it was all said and done, there were no exchanges in phone numbers or last names.

As if to further try and prove his own sexuality to himself, he recalled his many fantasies and wet dreams. All had involved women sprawled across his bedsheets or in the back of vintage car (similar to the one his step-father had owned before he sent it flying into a quarry). Not once could he remember a man slipping into his mind. _"Jim..." Soft lips whispering into his neck. Strong arms around his waist. _The fantasy had come out of nowhere as if to prove him wrong. He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to blank it out.

_A muscled torso pressed into his back. Hands roaming. Nips at his shoulders and ears. _The images wouldn't stop, quickly growing more erotic by the second. Clearly, the fever was getting to his head. There was no way he could think about Spock that way. Not his First Officer in Command. Not him_. Kissing. Stroking. _Jim rolled out of bed and stumbled into his bathroom. A cold shower, that would do it. It would clear his head. It was just the fever. He turned the faucet on cold and stepped in.

The water hurt. It stabbed at him and made his skin crawl. Jim gasped and nearly jumped out. Lingering images forced him to stay under. He clenched his teeth and bared through it for a few minutes. When he was done, he rushed back to his bed and dove under the covers.

_'Just get some sleep. It's the fever. You're just really tired,' _he told himself over and over again. He sniffled and snuggled himself deep in the sea of cotton surrounding him. If he could get comfortable enough, he could get some sleep and forget.

Man, he could go for some soup and a shot of whiskey.

* * *

**Authors Note**

_**Disclaimer:**__ See past chapters._

_I kept revising this chapter. I could never really get it good enough. I know nothing really happens, but I guess I decided this would be a good time to have the characters...reflect? Think about things? Hopefully it's not to painful to get through. And I know I kind of took the cheap way out. I just wanted to get things rolling, ya know? Because I wanna get to these exciting parts that have yet to come. -author is shot for being irresponsible-_

_Thanks again to everyone who had given reviews, favorites, and follows! It feels good to get emails that tell me that I must be doing something right. I hope you all stick with me to the end! Don't be afraid to review/point out flaws in my story! Somebody caught one not too long ago and it was a real help. I'll probably do some revisions to the past chapters later on. We'll see how far I get and how lazy I feel._

_I've got some new fan fiction ideas (all in the star trek universe of course). Would you guys be interested? One will be a collection of shorts that are mostly humorous/fluff (I will do this for sure because it's for a friend! She came up with this great idea for a fan fiction). Another is about drug addiction and recovery (angst, of course). There's also this one about an escaped slaved who breaks onto enterprise, but I'm not sure if I want to do it just yet. If you are interested, I'll try to let you guys know within my next author notes when they are up. Or you can just check out my page ever once in a while and see if anything goes up. I'm not sure when I will start working on them, but hopefully soon._

_Also, if you guys want to relive your teen/tween/younger years, give "Little Things" by Good Charlotte a listen. In no, way, shape, or form does it fit this chapter. I just kept thinking about it every time I typed "little things." _

_**EDIT:**__ Sorry if you guys saw chapter 7 up and then it suddenly disappeared. There were a few things I missed! Also, my file keeps getting messed up so I want to apologize for any weird mistakes. It keeps deleting parts of the text. I don't know what's going on._


	8. Chapter Eight: Shaken and Fine

_**Chapter Eight:**__ Shaken and Fine_

_Space was a black ocean littered with silver pin pricks of light. Infinite stretch of endless possibilities. No matter how far he stretched his arm, he could never touch the end. He would reach and reach but nothing would happen. Frustrating. Never moving, always sinking. _

_His mother was out there, __lost__ in the wake of stars. That's why she never came home. At least not her spirit. She always smiled and brushed the hair out of her face, but her eyes were distant, reflecting the night's sky. He just wanted her to come back home. _

_They slid past him, their red uniforms just a flash. He reached and reached, just as he did into the stretch of endless space. Desperate to grab a hold. Yet the figures slipped, his fingers came back with nothing. And the black void swallowed them whole. _

_He didn't know what he was doing. He never had._

"_Fight! Fight!" They all screamed. It wasn't his first brwall, and it would be his last. The blows connected, splitting his skin. Bruises blossomed across his cheeks and jaw. Different from Frank's. These were __**his. **__He liked the way they hurt when he pressed into them. _

"_Captain?" He something warm slipping down from his nose and over his lips. He pressed his fingers lightly to his upper lip. Rich __red __stained the tips of his index and middle finger. Precious drops hit his gold shirt and soaked into the fabric. He looked up to see those curious brown eyes staring at him. _

_Strung up like a coat. His feet dangling over the glittering black __void__. His body swayed drastically. Breath. His fingers dug, but they couldn't get beneath the stiff cord. He couldn't breath. Cutting into his jaw. Desperate. _

_Gasping._

_. . . ._

Spock's eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air. Choking. He sat up in his bed and grasped at his neck. Nothing but bare skin brushed against his fingers. Finally, he felt the air rushing back into his lungs. He took a moment to find his reserve.

Searching his mind, he tried to find exactly what had disturbed him. There were no images that came to mind. Just a feeling. Like being suspending over an empty space. Helpless and struggling against the invisible cord. Goosebumps flared across his skin. Curious, he inspected the raised hairs on his arms. Running his fingers over the small bumps, he whispered, "Fascinating."

This was the fourth time he had been woken from his sleep by an intense feeling. The three previous times had been like a blow to his abdomen, sending an electrical wave through his nervous system. Although he could not recollect what had disturbed him then, he thought nothing more of it. But this was different. It was far more intense.

After each pre-shift meditation, he ha been able to shake the eerie feelings. But when he tried this time, the feeling lingered in in his midsection; biting into his spine and locking its jaw tight. After one hour and twenty point five seconds, he gave up. Annoyed, he snuffed out his incense and got dressed for his shift. Was it possible he was getting ill? He had not noticed any other symptoms, but maybe he should pay a visit to Doctor McCoy.

As he was slipping into his blue uniform shirt, his communicator called out. He smoothed is partially ruffled hair and grabbed it from his dresser. "Commander Spock." The line was silent for a brief moment before a woman replied. "It's Lieutenant Uhura. Are you busy?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not at this precise moment. Is there something wrong?"

"I wish to speak to you about something personal."

"I am in my quarters. Would you like to meet somewhere?"

"No. I'll be there in a few minutes." He end of the line went dead and Spock shut his communicator. His angled eyebrow raised itself higher. No doubt, she would come to him and ask them about their previous relationship.

The one he ended.

He made his bed while he waited for her. The fabric was still slightly stiff, yet to be broken in. Not the most comfortable to sleep in, but they were perfect for making a crisp bed (which he enjoyed). Spock smoothed the sheets until they where completely flat with no indentations or wrinkles. The feeling had slightly subsided, yet still quietly lurking in his core.

A knock at the door let him knew she was finally there. He straighten his clothes and commanded the door open. Uhura walked in, her long hair swaying behind her. Her shoulders were tense and she twisted her hands before hiding them behind her back. "Hello," she greeted softly. Spock gave a slight tilt of the head. "Nyota."

She bit her lower lip and dropped her gaze. A smile broke the line of her lips. A sad, forced smile. "I know this is out of the blue, but-" She took a breath. "I was hoping we could talk about us. About our relationship and where we stand."

There was no doubt in his mind that he _cared_ for Uhura. She had been his companion in his darkest times, never demanding that he talk about what had happened. She was just there, silently holding onto him and listening if he dare open his mouth and let the spew of hurt and anger and confusion he felt. They had shared many intellectual conversations in standard English and Vulcan. He did not speak of himself often, but when he did, it was with her. Uhura knew of his childhood bullies, the unsteady relationship with his father, and even of his sehlat.

When she was in danger, he felt a possessiveness. On the very few away missions she attended, he kept her in his peripheral vision. Of course she could stand on her own perfectly well, but Spock couldn't help but watch for danger lurking close by. He could not stand to see her hurt; emotionally or physically. There where a few times when he found her near tears and he felt a need to fix the problem, but he had never been good at comforting. So he did what he could to help.

But it was not the question of whether he care for her or not. It was if he cared for her _romantically._

His silence must of lasted too long. She began to speak rapidly, "I understand why we broke up before you left. You had a lot of things on your mind. You're father was really sick and more of your people were dying and after everything you've been though... Certain things became priority. I get that." She stopped. Uhura's gazed reached his. She was searching for an answer. An answer he didn't have.

"It's okay if you don't want to start back up again." Spock blinked. "Because I don't want you to be with me because you feel like it's an obligation." He couldn't help but make a face. "Nyota, I was never with you as an obligation. I choose to be your companion because I care deeply for you." Her eyes briefly glanced away. "I know, Spock. I'm just not sure you care about me the same way I care about you." Spock fell silent.

He wasn't sure, either.

_. . . ._

"JIM!"

He looked up from his plate. There was no need to look behind him to know Bones was storming in his direction with fury burning in his eyes. "I will see you guys on the Bridge," He said to Sulu and Chekov. He grabbed his plate and dump it quickly before heading towards the exits. "Don't you walk away from me, farm boy!" Clearly, Bones had noticed the missing bottles of booze. He sped up, hoping the older man would either loose him or give up until later.

"If you don't stop right now, so help me God," He heard Leonard McCoy shouting over the quickly dying chatter. They were starting to make a scene. A string of swears slipped out of Jim's mouth quietly. He sighed and stopped. "Look, Bones. I can't explain-" Bones grabbed him by the arm roughly and kept walking.

"I'm pretty sure man handling the Captain is against regulation," Jim joked, trying to ignore the bruising that was starting under McCoy's fingers. The doctor made no response. He dragged Jim all the way to Medical bay. Once they where there, he released him and went over to his desk. "Something's missing from my office. Can you guess what it is?"

The blue eyed wonder peered around, as if actually searching for the answer. "Didn't you have a poster of a sexy, naked woman? I'm pretty sure it was somewhere over there." The doctor's eyes turned to fire. "Jim-" His voice was tense. "She was blonde, short hair... Actually, she looked a lot like Carol-"

"Dammit, Jim!" He abruptly grabbed the handle on the bottom drawer and yanked it out. "Let me give you a hint." Jim fell silent and averted his eyes to the floor. Not that it mattered if he looked the older man in the eye or not. How could he not notice the overbearing guilt pulling down on Jim's shoulders? He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Of course he would be pissed. Jim hadn't really been thinking when he was rifling though McCoy's drawers. He was curious. Bored really. When he opened the bottom drawer, he hadn't expected to find such a treasure. Since he was in the middle of his weekly checkup, he couldn't take them then. No, he couldn't take them at all. But the image of the bottom drawer flitted in his mind until one day his fingers where wrapped around their glossy necks.

"Do you know how many bottles I found in your room?" McCoy's voice was tight. Jim had almost forgotten where he was, lost in thought. He did his best to not roll his eyes at the question. "It wasn't that ma-" He began before being interrupted. "Seven. Five were empty, one half full, and one surprisingly unopened." Jim shrugged his shoulders slightly. "They were nice bottles. I was collecting them." He could almost hear the brunette's teeth clicking together. "You know how many times your sorry ass has been in here for alcohol poisoning?" The slightly waver in Bone's voice caught his attention. Jim looked up, baffled. "What-"

"Three times."

Jim made no response. The room had grown warm and the air thick. That wasn't true, was it? He ground his teeth together. "Bullshit." McCoy grabbed the PADD from his desk and typed something in. "Medical record of James T. Kirk," He spoke through clenched teeth, thrusting the device into the blonde's hand. _Suffered from dehydration, vomiting, irregular breathing, and low body temperature. _It appeared on his record three different times over the past two years. "Nobody's put the symptom's together yet, thank God." McCoy leaned against the desk.

Legs shaking, Jim set the PADD on McCoy's desk and braced himself. Had he really gotten that bad? He searched his memory, but couldn't remember getting that sick. At least not more than once. To be honest, most of it had become a blur.

"You're a grown man and a Captain. When are you gonna start acting like it?" Again, Jim had no answer. He felt shame. All this time while he had wallowed in his self pity, McCoy had covered for him. Each time he had stumbled drunk into a bad situation, McCoy had been there to preform his doctoral duties. Every time, warning him to stop. Yet here he was, standing before his friend, his_ best friend_, with no thanks or gratitude. _Worthless._

A deep sigh sounded from the older man. "It's never a problem. You tell yourself, just a little bit to get by. _I can stop when it all goes away._" Jim looked over at McCoy. His hazel eyes seemed distant. "I've been there, you know. Second week into being at the Academy and I got the shit beat out of me just outside the bar. Some punk with metal in his face. He called me old and I got mouthy." Jim felt a smile tug at his lips. "You called me from a payphone. _'If you don't come get me, I'll use you for hypo practice-'_ You know, you're really hard to understand when you're drunk." McCoy exhaled. "I'm from the south, Jim."

"Isn't that the night we almost got busted skinny dipping?" Jim asked. "That was during finals week and it was your idea." Jim shook his head and pointed at the older male. "No, you stripped first." A deep set frown craved itself into McCoy's face. "I remember it differently." Jim rolled his eyes and looked up a the ceiling. "Of course you do. We drank two full bottles of whiskey. In an hour or something." Their eyes met before they both broke into a quiet laugh.

"That was the night you told me about your Uncle," McCoy spoke after the laughter faded. Jim sighed. "Yeah, I told you a lot of things that night. Things I never told anyone..." He paused. "I can't believe you even remember." McCoy glanced over at his friend and shrugged. "I was sober by then."

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The tension had dissipated. Jim wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence, but it felt good.

"Dr. McCoy," one of the nurses entered the room briskly. She stopped when she saw the doctor wasn't alone. "What is it?" Bones asked with a roll of the eye. "We have a Cadet from maintenance that has a broken arm." McCoy let out a heavy sigh. "Are you serious? I don't know what kind of operation that Scott bastard is running down there, but this is the second time he's sent somebody up with a broken limb." He waved her away. She seemed suspicious, but left anyways.

"Look, Bones... I'm sorry for being an ass." McCoy shot him with a glare. "Sorry doesn't replace the 1945 Jack Daniels you took." Jim straighten his clothes and got up. "I'll make it up to you. Some how." McCoy scoffed, "Oh really?" Jim grabbed the brunette by the shoulders and gave him a slap. "Yeah. I got you covered, buddy." He turned a to leave, but a hand stopped him. "I'm worried about ya, Jim. I know you don't see it now, but the drinking..." He almost didn't hear him, his voice awfully quiet. Jim froze. It took him only a second to compose his face into a wide smile. "I'll be fine."

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Star Trek. It was originally created by Gene Roddenberry._

_[insert string of curses here]_

_SO, __**BAD**__ NEWS FOR YOU GUYS: I GOT A JOB WHERE I WORK 10 HOUR SHIFTS. So, that's why I haven't posted anything up in forever. I was on an unannounced hiatus. My apologize. Also, I fucking ran out of creative steam and this chapter has been cut up, deleted, and moved around many times now. **Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry** _

_FAN FICTION IS HARD, GUIES. LIKE HOW DO YOU WRITE CHARACTERS SO THEY ARE THOSE CHARACTERS? WHY CAN'T IT JUST LIKE MAGICALLY HAPPEN? WHY DO I HAVE TO ACTUALLY THINK? LIKE, PLOT IS EVEN WORSE. WHY? GUIES TELL ME NAO._

_Of course, since we have no idea what happened during their time at the academy, i made shit up. Hope that's cool. If not, WHATEVER. (I'MJOKINGPLEASELAUGH)_

_THE __**WORSE**__ NEWS: I really need to get some time and collect my thoughts and get caught up in this story. I also need time to figure out a work schedule for myself since my boss doesn't have a schedule for us. We just like fucking come in a work for 40/80 hours and then excuse ourselves? I really don't fucking know. SO, ANOTHER FUCKING HIATUS. I promise not to take too long!_

_I know, I'm robbing you of story time, kids. But you'll have to bare with me. Or not. Do as you please. I'm not your mother dragging you away from the reading circle. I'm just the story teller. The vicious, cold hearted bastard of a story teller that is unreliable for readings. _

_THE __**GOOD**__ NEWS:The fucking climax is coming up so hold onto your panties, ladies and gentlemen. _

**_I would now like to apologize for my sailor's mouth. Thank you and good fucking night._**

_(-whispers- Iloveyouall pleasedon'thatemetoomuch youmakemesohappytoseeyourfollows/review/favorites dontleavemealone)_


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